His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish Read online

  ‘I need to sit up.’

  ‘Is that wise?’ Another female voice, unfamiliar.

  ‘Yes. I want Alex… I mean, where is Lord Weybourn?’

  ‘I am here, Tess.’ His mother moved aside and Alex appeared in her place. ‘Let me put a cushion behind you.’

  She managed to sit up, her gaze fixed on his face. ‘I thought I saw… I am seeing things. Ghosts.’

  ‘No, not a ghost. You saw your aunt’s eldest daughter. I think your cousin, Lady Wilmslow, must be about the age your mother was when she died. Apparently there is a strong resemblance.’

  Oh. So I am not going mad, I am not seeing things. Oh, Mama, I wish it had been you. Then the implication of Alex’s words penetrated her spinning thoughts. ‘My aunt? My cousin? Here?’

  ‘To meet you, yes.’ Alex straightened up and stepped back.

  There was a moment of hesitation, then the three ladies came forward, the youngest dropping to her knees beside Tess. ‘I am your second cousin Charlotte. I am so pleased to meet you! I’ve been wanting to know all about my scandalous Cousin Jane and no one would tell me anything.’ She sat back on her heels, blonde ringlets bouncing, and beamed at Tess. ‘We’re muddling you—are we a great surprise?’

  ‘A…shock,’ Tess confessed. She swung her feet down from the sofa and sat up. The room shifted queasily.

  One of the older women came and perched by her feet, the other—the one who looked like Mama—stood with her hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. ‘My dear Teresa. Did Lord Weybourn not warn you?’

  Tess shook her head, looked round for Alex. He was standing with his father, both of them withdrawn from the group around Tess. He was watching her intently. ‘I do not know what to say. My aunt told me that the family wanted nothing to do with either of us.’

  There was an uneasy silence. The three women all looked at the elderly man who was still on his feet. He stared at Tess from under beetling grey brows. Lord Moreland cleared his throat and the stranger shot him a fierce glare. ‘Don’t you presume to prompt me, Moreland. I’ll make up my own mind. She looks like a lady, I’ll say that, not a chit born in sin and raised by a Papist.’

  Tess’s confusion cleared, leaving her oddly calm and very, very angry. With everyone. She got to her feet, ignoring agitated sounds from her female cousins. ‘Are you my grandfather, sir?’

  ‘I am Sethcombe. This is your younger uncle, Lord Withrend.’

  Tess straightened her back, lifted her chin and took a deep breath. I will not break down. I will not scream at him. ‘My mother intended to make a legal marriage. If she was not in full possession of the facts, then you, my lord, must take responsibility for not advising her of them. As for my aunt, she was a good woman who followed her conscience and was true to her faith. I was raised as a gentlewoman and that is all I lay claim to. I most certainly have no wish to lay claim to a relationship with you, my lord.’ She turned and dropped a slight curtsy to Lady Moreland. ‘I apologise, my lady, for any embarrassment I may have caused. I had no idea who your neighbours were until after I entered this house.

  ‘I will retire to my room now and I would be most grateful if you would allow me a carriage to take me to the nearest stagecoach halt in the morning.’

  ‘Tess!’ Alex strode across the room to stand between her and the door as she turned amidst an echoing silence. ‘You cannot do that. Your family has come to meet you, to make their peace.’

  ‘I see no sign of it. My cousins are most kind, for which I thank them. But my grandfather considers me a child of sin by one daughter, raised by another whom he cast out for following a faith of which he obviously disapproves deeply.’ Her voice wavered and she brought it back under control with an effort that hurt her throat. ‘My presence in this house must only be a strain on relations between neighbours. An embarrassment.’ She sidestepped and reached the door before he spoke.

  ‘You are not an embarrassment to me and you ever could be. I wish you to be my wife, Tess.’

  She closed her fingers around the door handle, the moulded metal cutting into her palm.

  ‘I thought you might care for me a little, Tess.’

  How that must hurt his pride, to make a declaration in front of his parents, in front of their neighbours. ‘I do care for you, Lord Weybourn.’ She said it steadily and without turning. ‘I care too much to stay and bring scandal on your family. You have only just found them again. I would not have you lose them.’

  Somehow she made it to her chamber and rang the bell. Dorcas arrived five minutes later, pink cheeked and cheerful.

  ‘I am sorry to disturb you, Dorcas, but I am leaving in the morning. Please could you ask one of the footmen to bring my portmanteaux down so I can pack?’

  ‘But don’t you want me to come with you, Miss Ellery?’

  ‘I can’t afford to pay you, Dorcas. I am very sorry. I will write a note for Lady Moreland and I am sure she will do her best to find you a respectable place where you may keep Daisy with you.’

  ‘We’ll come, too,’ Dorcas said stubbornly.

  ‘I have no money—only enough to afford some cheap lodgings until I can find a position. It wouldn’t be fair to Daisy.’

  ‘You can’t go off to London by yourself. Look what happened before. We’ll come with you—we can go to the lodgings you had with Mrs Semple—and we will find something we can do.’

  ‘Dorcas—’

  ‘I won’t leave you.’ Dorcas sat down on the end of the bed. ‘You saved us. I’ll get the bags.’

  Oh, bless her. She was too grateful for the support to argue anymore. ‘Knock when you come back. I am locking the door.’ Not that there seemed to be any need. Alex was hardly rushing after her. He had probably realised all too clearly what a mistake he had made in bringing her grand—in bringing Lord Sethcombe and his family here.

  She began to move about the room, opening drawers, piling her few possessions on the bed. She hesitated over the gifts from the Tempest family, then put them in the pile to pack. It would be ungracious to discard them.

  Patricia sat stiffly on the bedside cupboard, blue skirts smooth, painted eyes beady. ‘Oh, Alex. Of all the things to give me. I will talk to her, try to pretend I am back in an innocent childhood—and all the time I’ll see you, look into your eyes, want to run my fingers through your hair.’ She trailed her hand over the shiny painted scalp. ‘I’ll want to hear your voice and there will only be silence.’

  ‘Tess!’ There was a sharp knock on the door panels. ‘Dorcas is standing here with your luggage. What the devil do you think you are doing?’

  She found herself at the door, her hands pressed against the panels, as close to him as she would ever be again. ‘I am leaving, as I said I would. Alex, how could you do that? How could you cause such embarrassment for your parents? You told me your father and Lord Sethcombe were not on good terms, and this can only make it far worse.’

  ‘I thought it best to surprise you so you could not refuse to see them.’ He sounded tense, but patient. ‘He is an old man, Tess, and we are asking him to admit he blundered badly with two of his daughters and let blind prejudice estrange him from his granddaughter.’

  ‘I am not asking him anything.’

  ‘You will not forgive him, then? Not even for—’

  Silence. ‘For what?’ Tess prompted. But it seemed Alex had gone. For what—or for whom?

  *

  It was the longest Christmas evening that Alex could remember. The Sethcombe ladies, distressed at losing Tess almost as soon as they had found her, were driven home by Lord Withrend. Lord Sethcombe stayed, apparently a fixture in the best chair in the study, drinking brandy with Lord Moreland, the two men exchanging occasional observations on matters that had no bearing on the problem whatsoever, so far as Alex could tell from his silent vigil by the window, hoping against hope that Tess would relent and come down.

  At seven Annie presented herself, bobbed a curtsy that was one inch from insolent and announced that where Miss Ellery, Mrs White
and Daisy went, she went and she hoped his lordship would take that as her notice because she didn’t care whether he gave her a reference or not, she wasn’t staying, not no how. At which point she burst into tears and fled the room.

  ‘Excellent staff management, Weybourn,’ his father observed.

  ‘Annie’s loyal,’ Alex snapped. ‘I’ll not fault anyone for that.’

  ‘That matters to you, does it not, Weybourn?’ Lord Sethcombe said.

  ‘Yes.’ He shut his lips tight on the observation that if the older man had been loyal to his daughters this would not have happened.

  ‘Do you love my granddaughter?’

  ‘Of course I love your granddaughter!’ Alex slammed the brandy glass down on the table beside him, sending liquid splashing across the polished surface. ‘Do you think I’d have dragged my ailing father out on a bitter winter’s day to try to make peace with you if I didn’t? Tess made me see the importance of family, the importance of forgiveness, but she didn’t teach me well enough to forgive you for this, I fear.’

  ‘You’ve a temper on you, Weybourn.’ Sethcombe observed. ‘Didn’t expect that. They told me you were a languid, elegant, care-for-nothing fellow. You gave me a shock, I’ll not deny it. I’m not an easy man to shift in my opinions.’

  Lord Moreland snorted. ‘You may say that again, Sethcombe.’

  The marquess glowered at him. ‘Your son wants to marry my granddaughter. I’ve no objection to that—’

  ‘With respect, sir, you have nothing to say in the matter. Miss Ellery is of age. As you don’t recognise her your approval is irrelevant,’ Alex said, hanging on to the tail of his temper.

  ‘But you want me to acknowledge her. Will that be enough to see her received?’

  ‘It will go a long way. The problem may lie in getting Tess to acknowledge you.’

  The glare swung round in an attempt to wither him. Alex glared back. Tess. I’m going the wrong way about this, locking horns with this old devil. I love you. I think you love me. Can I convince you that is all that matters?

  He got to his feet and both older men jumped as though they had been off in a world of their own. They probably had, he realised. Thinking about old battles, old hurts. To hell with the past; he’d been entangled in it for too long. He had a future to build with Tess if he could only make her believe in it.

  She had locked her door and he was not going to stand out there begging to come in. Nor would he act the lord and master by fetching a key and letting himself in. Tess’s life had been short on romance. Well, he might not be able to do it in armour, but, by God, he was going to try something romantic for once.

  Outside the moonlight was bright on the frosted grass, the shadows darkly dramatic where the topiary yews marched along the edge of the wide lawns. The trelliswork along the south front was bare, but the stems of the ornamental vines were thick and strong and he found no more difficulty climbing them than he had as a boy escaping from his tutor.

  There was light in Tess’s window, but when Alex reached it the room was empty. ‘Tess!’ He knocked on the panes, aware, suddenly, of the slippery soles of his evening shoes on the icy stems, the cold cramping his fingers. She was gone. ‘You fool, you waited too long.’ He let his head fall forward and banged it against the glass. Idiot. She’s run, gone off across the fields in this deadly weather.

  The despair was as bitter as the wind. Could he find her again? Dorcas and Annie would be with her, and little Daisy. They’d be careful for the baby, that was his only comfort. Search parties—and the staff full of punch and mince pies. How long? He slammed his fist against the window one last time and shifted to start the climb down.

  His head was just below the level of the sill when the window swung open. ‘Alex! What are you doing? Come in, for goodness’ sake, or you’ll fall.’ Tess was leaning out, hands outstretched.

  His hands opened with the instinctive urge to seize hold of her—safe and warm and there.

  ‘Alex!’

  Their fingers met, gripped, then he let go with his right hand and climbed up to face her. ‘You are falling out of that gown, Miss Ellery.’

  ‘Infuriating man.’ Both tears and laughter trembled in her voice. ‘You would be falling out if you were female and were leaning out of a window in an evening gown with an idiotic viscount dangling from your hands over rock-hard paving.’

  ‘I thought you had run away.’ He gripped the window frame and hauled himself through, then almost fell out again as Tess threw herself into his arms.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Her face was buried in his neckcloth and the warmth of her body seeped into his cold skin like a caress. Alex held tight and prayed. ‘You brought Grandfather here and it cannot have been easy and Lord Moreland went, too, even though he is so ill. And I’d wanted you to make up with your family, forgive your father—and I can’t even forgive my own grandfather.’

  ‘He’s a curmudgeonly devil, but he’s coming round. He knows he is in the wrong and he wants you to forgive him, but he’s an old man and a proud one. I think you may have to meet him halfway, Tess.’ He laid his numbed cheek against her hair and breathed in the scent of Tess, of woman. My woman.

  ‘I had just gone out of the door on my way downstairs to see if he was still there when I heard the knock on my window,’ she mumbled into his shirtfront as she began to burrow her nose between the buttons. ‘Brrr, your chest is cold. What on earth were you doing?’

  ‘I thought it might be romantic,’ Alex said, attempting to resist the urge to pick her up bodily, toss her on to the bed and demonstrate that not all parts of his anatomy were frozen.

  ‘To almost kill yourself?’ Tess leaned back in his arms and glared at him. ‘Of all the—’

  He kissed her. Her mouth was hot and opened on a gasp of surprise, then she was kissing him back, stroking her tongue over his, sighing as she pressed close into his arms. She was here, she was his and he was home.

  *

  Alex broke the kiss when her knees were threatening to give way. Tess sagged into his arms and rubbed her cheek against his chest, the friction of the waistcoat edge a welcome irritation reminding her that this was real and not a dream.

  ‘I know you wanted a knight in armour, a Sir Galahad, and all you had was a prosaic soul trying to do this by logic and negotiation. You needed sweeping off your feet.’ His breath was warm in her hair as he nuzzled into it, pulling her close.

  ‘I don’t want a knight. I want my viscount—just as long as marrying me does not ruin you.’

  ‘Truly, Tess?’ Alex stepped back, let her go, his gaze fixed on her face. ‘I love you. I want to marry you, raise children with you. It might still be difficult—I can’t pretend it won’t, even with our families’ support. I won’t be ruined, far from it, but there will be talk, and you might not be received at court.’

  ‘I don’t care. I only want you, only need you.’ Once she had dreamed of seeing the Prince Regent. Once she had dreamed of a gallant knight. Now she had a family and a man she loved to build their own with.

  ‘You showed me the way home,’ Alex said. ‘You gave me my father back.’ A faint rumour of sound drifted in through the window with the cold breeze. The staff were singing carols. ‘You gave me Christmas back.’

  Tess held out her hand, tugged him towards the door. ‘Let’s go and tell them. How soon can we get married?’

  ‘A month.’

  ‘That long? Alex, I want to be yours the moment you can get a special licence.’

  ‘And I want the biggest possible wedding.’ He stopped at the head of the stairs and caught her in his arms, his smile a caress that made her dizzy with desire for him. ‘A society wedding, an announcement that I love you, that our families love you and we are proud of you. I want you to have the pleasure of buying a trousseau and I want the pleasure of buying you jewels.’

  ‘There’s still my grandfather.’

  ‘Just kiss his cheek, let him forgive himself.’ Alex took her hand and led her downstairs, into t
he small dining room where Maria was filling a plate for Tess’s grandfather and the rest of the family were carrying on what sounded like a desperately polite conversation.

  ‘Teresa.’ Her grandfather stood up. ‘I cannot undo the past.’

  ‘I know.’ She found it easy to release her grip on Alex’s hand, to go around the table and to stand on tiptoe to kiss the old man’s cheek. ‘But we can start afresh, can’t we? I love Alex. We are going to be married. I want you to know your great-grandchildren.’

  The cheek her lips were pressed to was wet and his voice was gruff as he said, ‘I wish your grandmother was alive today.’

  ‘So do I.’ Tess put up one hand and wiped the tears off his cheeks. ‘Alex will fetch me some supper and we’ll talk about her.’

  Maria was in tears, Lady Moreland fluttered a lace handkerchief, Matthew was slapping Alex on the back and Lord Moreland, seated at the head of the table, struck his knife against his wine glass.

  ‘A toast to the future Lady Weybourn, my new daughter.’

  Epilogue

  ‘Your attention, please!’ Alex stood in the door of the servants’ hall, Tess by his side. Faces turned; the laughter and chatter died away. ‘I have the honour to introduce you to my betrothed. You all know her and many of you made her feel safe and welcome in a strange city. You will all understand why I cannot live without her—’

  Whatever else he intended to say was lost in the hubbub. Dorcas, predictably, was in tears. Annie, her newfound dignity forgotten, was dancing up and down, the Half Moon Street staff were clapping, Garnett, his face split by a huge grin, was leading his people in a rousing chorus of cheers.

  The noise showed no sign of abating. Alex eased back through the door, taking Tess with him. ‘Father’s told Garnett to open the champagne. Goodness knows if anyone is going to be sober by tomorrow.’

  They reached the ground-floor landing of the backstairs, but Alex kept climbing. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To bed.’ He stopped at the next turn. ‘Unless you wish me to retire to my own bedchamber until the wedding night?’